


The Next in Line

by pearl_o



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-24
Updated: 2002-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-01 07:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, what am I?  Just some footnote in your epic romance?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Next in Line

## The Next in Line

by Pearl-o

<http://www26.brinkster.com/pearlo/writing.html>

* * *

Clark knows he's smart. He's been on the honor roll his entire life, A's and B's in all his classes; he almost never has to study, because he can memorize things with a glance or two; he can do complex mathematics in his head instantly. 

But despite this, he thinks, he can be really, really, _really_ stupid. 

It has been almost a year since he and Chloe started dating. Their official counting methodology is by the spring dance, and they've celebrated one month, three months, six and eight. Clark has been planning for their anniversary in secret for weeks, with Lex's help. There are reservations at a nice (but not too nice, Lex assures him) restaurant in Metropolis. There is a borrowed limousine, possibly the same one from the aborted 'date' with Lana all those months ago. There is a small locket in a velvet box -- fairly cheap, but then, Clark bought it himself, with money scrounged from weeks of various odd jobs all around town. 

Clark and Chloe have been a _Couple_ now at school for most of the year. Clark isn't sure exactly when he stopped being an individual \-- Clark Kent, weird farm kid, not hated but not especially well-liked, either -- and instead became one-half of a pair, but he doesn't mind. He likes being 'Chloe's boyfriend'; he likes her being 'Clark's girlfriend.' It's easy. They fit together, just like when they were just good friends, like pieces of a machine. Clark's mother thinks they're perfect for each other, and cute. Clark's father says Chloe's a great girl. Pete says they bicker like an old married couple. 

Clark knows Chloe's lips and hands almost as well as his own. He's memorized the feel of her breasts, soft and heavy in his hands, the sight of her toothy smile when he does something just right, the scent she carries around with her, bright and low and clean. 

They have been together for nearly one year, and if Clark thinks about it, he could see them together for more years to come -- the rest of high school, college, beyond, into their real lives. 

It has been seven months since Clark realized he was in love with Lex. 

There was Lex's unexpected phone call after school in mid-October, telling him to be standing by the barn in fifteen minutes, and Clark knew Lex well enough to be ready and waiting, chores done and Mom kissed, when he showed up. 

"Where are we going?" he asked as he jumped into the car. 

Lex moved his mouth into an expression that was halfway to a smile, and didn't speak until they stopped by the side of the bridge. 

Clark had figured out their destination a minute or two before they arrived, and he'd been struck by the sudden anger that hit him, as his fists clenched and he felt his pulse quicken. And behind the anger, the _hurt_. He thought they were beyond this. 

He followed Lex out to the railing, where it was still obvious where the older parts ended and the new section had been installed. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat as he waited for Lex to say whatever he needed to say. 

Lex was silent, though, so Clark looked up to see Lex staring out into the water below. 

"A year today," said Lex. 

"Oh." _Oh_. 

"We've come a long way, don't you think?" Then Lex sighed, and moved his hand over to Clark's, and squeezed. 

And Clark squeezed back as he stared down into the river, and thought about a lot of things. About how Lex almost died, would have died if Clark hadn't been right there moping over Lana, and if Clark wasn't special, able to jump in and save him and breathe life back into him down there on that river bank. About how quickly Lex became someone he couldn't see his life without -- his best friend. About how he felt when he warned Lex about Cassandra's prediction, how he felt when Lex shot him in the garage, how he felt when Lex gave him each one of his gifts, how he felt when it looked like Lex might be returning to Metropolis forever. 

How he felt now, with Lex's hand wrapped around Clark's own. 

Clark knows he is smart, but he's stupid sometimes, and he wondered vaguely why he never noticed before just how important Lex was to his life, compared with everyone else. Why he never quite noticed how much he cared about Lex, and how much he wanted from Lex, too. 

Really stupid, because this was something he maybe should have figured out a long time before this moment. How long can you _want_ before you finally realize it? 

But there was a sort of symmetry here, too, Clark thought. "Yeah," he said absently. "We have." 

It has been five months since Clark realized Lex might be in love with him, too. Five months since he kissed Lex after the plant Christmas party, and they started whatever it is they have. 

No. Not started, because that went way back to the first day, back to the crash, too. But five months since it changed, and became something new, and different, and deeper. 

The Christmas party was at the mansion, and it was big and elaborate and extravagant. Triumphant, too, and Clark thought of it privately as some kind of victory token for Lex. _His_ plant, _his_ workers, _his_ celebration. 

Clark was there with Chloe, as her date, and Chloe was there with her dad, so it was almost like Clark actually belonged there, not just Lex's friend, but a normal guest. Only he could look at each room they passed through and think about how it looked usually. How he had been there before hundreds of times, with Lex, just average days, and no one else here could say that. 

He was thinking about that as he and Chloe danced. The party had largely dispersed, and they were one of the few couples still on the floor, though their dance had mostly been reduced to the level of slow and gentle rocking. 

He'd only been in the ballroom twice before -- once when Lex originally gave him the tour of the mansion, and again when they were wandering around one evening during the summer, and had stood in the doorway watching the moon shine in through the clear high windows. 

Chloe sighed, and mumbled into the crook of his neck as he held her. "I love you." 

He froze for a second, so fast she couldn't possibly have noticed it, and said quietly, "I love you, too." And it was true, but it felt like a lie, because he didn't -- doesn't -- love Chloe _that_ way. The way he should. The way she loves him. 

It wasn't very long after that Chloe's dad reappeared from wherever he and Lex had gone off to smoke cigars and drink expensive liquor, and Chloe kissed Clark again before she left to drive the two of them home. 

Her lip gloss was still on Clark's lips when he drifted up to Lex's study and found Lex there, sprawled out on the couch, suit jacket gone and tie undone, looking as happy and satisfied as Clark had ever seen him. 

And looking back, Clark knows there must have been a moment there when it was all still up in the air, undetermined, a time when it all could have gone differently than it did. Clark thinks this must be true, because otherwise it doesn't make any sense at all, but still, he remembers it in a kind of haze. Shoving Lex over to make room for Clark to sit against him; light banter and playful nudging as they talked; the quiet toast to the successful party; companionable and thoughtful silence. And Clark had looked up at some point to find Lex watching him with a strange expression, fond and hungry and not quite wary, and Clark had moved forward all the way into Lex's space, not really thinking about what he was doing, not until Lex's lips parted beneath his and Lex's hands came up to stroke at his hair. 

Somehow, Lex was on his back on the couch, and Clark was on top of him, and he was making out with _Lex_ , and they were grinding against each other -- Clark could feel Lex's erection through the fabric, rubbing up against him -- and Clark sat up, knees on either sides of Lex's thighs, and began to tug at Lex's shirt. 

"Clark. Stop." Lex grabbed his wrists and caught his gaze. "Wait." 

"Lex, I don't want to -- I've _been_ waiting --" 

Lex's thumb rubbed small circles on the back of his hand. "Then a little while longer isn't going to kill you, is it?" 

Clark glared at him sullenly. 

"Clark. I just want you to think about this. Go home and sleep on it. Come back if you're still sure in a few days." 

There are times when it's worthless to try and argue with Lex, and Clark has learned to identify when the cause is already lost. Three days later, the day after Christmas, he came back and brought Lex his present, and this time when they kissed Lex didn't stop him. 

Lex has never denied Clark anything he's wanted, and Clark wants Lex like he's never wanted anything in his life, not normalcy or Lana or anything. 

Lex never _will_ deny Clark anything he needs, and god, Clark needs Lex, too. But still, Clark would stay away, be the good kid, the good boyfriend, do the right thing and fuck destiny, anyway. He would do all that, but Clark may be stupid at a lot of this, but he does get it sometimes, and Lex -- Lex needs Clark just as much. Maybe more. 

Five months and it feels like always and it feels like never. It feels not real, and like the only thing that is. 

Being with Lex isn't easy or comfortable, never that, not when Clark's heart still beats faster and his palms still get sweaty when they touch. But it seems to be necessary in a way that frightens Clark when he lets himself think about it. A few days without seeing Lex, and he starts to itch, to fidget uncontrollably; his concentration disappears completely, leaving him to stare into space at odd times, vague and oblivious, until someone pokes him or yells and brings him back. 

What surprises Clark the most is how little things changed afterwards. Lex is still Lex, and Clark is still Clark, and they're still friends, just like before. They can still talk about things -- even Chloe, though Clark has never been the one to bring up the subject. The way Lex talks now about Chloe, about Clark and Chloe, is the same as it ever was. It's not that Clark wants Lex to be jealous, exactly; it's more like he wants proof that this is serious for Lex, and Lex's help and encouragement with Clark's girlfriend is not altogether satisfying. On the other hand, it's not like Lex hasn't given him signals enough, in the subtle and unspoken way that might be nothing with anyone else, but has to be meaningful here. Maybe he should just be relieved that Lex isn't asking from him more than he knows how to give. Even if he wants to give it, somehow. 

That thought is familiar, too, in ways that Clark prefers not to think about. Their whole friendship seems the same now, only more so, with another connection, and kissing, and sex. 

There's really a lot of sex, and that's one of the things Clark should feel guiltier for than he does. He and Chloe have never done that. They've basically stalled permanently somewhere around second base and heavy petting, and Clark's told Chloe he's not ready for more. It's another one of the truths that feels like a lie. 

There have been a lot of those with Chloe. Too many. 

And at least that's one thing Clark can be grateful for now, because there won't need to be anymore. There may come a point, some time in the future, when that thought will be comforting, but it hasn't come yet. 

It has been three hours since Chloe broke up with him. 

Chloe was waiting in the Fortress of Solitude when Clark got home, and he blinked in surprise to see her there, standing next to the telescope in her favorite blue dress. 

"Chloe. What are you doing--" His voice trailed off when she turned around. Her make-up was runny, and her eyes were red. Her face looked numb. 

"I was here for our date, Clark. I've been waiting two hours." 

He stopped to stand beside her. "Jeez, Chloe, I totally forgot. I'm so sorry." She flinched away when he reached out to touch her arm. 

"Stop. Just--" Chloe walked over to the couch and sat down lightly at the edge, like she was afraid it would break if she gave it her entire weight. She looked carefully at the floor as she spoke. "God, Clark. Do you ever just get tired?" 

"What do you mean?" he said, standing there helplessly, watching her. 

"I'm tired. I'm tired of pretending this is enough. I'm tired of pretending I have you when you're here." 

"You do have me," Clark said, but the words came out weak and uncertain. 

Chloe ignored him. "I thought -- I'd thought we had moved on Lana, you know? She was in the past. I'd thought you'd forgotten about her, but now I don't know. Are you still in love with her?" Chloe's voice was wavering, but she still didn't look up. 

"Chloe -- fuck!" Unfamiliar word on his lips, and he rubbed his hands against his face. "I don't care about her. You know that. I'm over her; I'm with you." 

Chloe laughed, a harsh pained noise. "But you're not, Clark. That's the point." 

There was a silence, and Clark took another step towards the couch. 

"Fine. It's not Lana, then. I guess it's just me. I'm not enough." 

" _Chloe_." This time he could hear the pleading in his voice, earnest and almost begging. "Don't do this. I'm sorry. I was over at Lex's house, reading in the library, and I fell asleep. That's all." 

It was true, too. Clark hadn't even seen Lex in a few days -- he'd been busy with work -- and it was somehow worse that this was happening now, when he could have been perfectly innocent. Could have been, but wasn't. 

But maybe there was something in Clark's voice that he hadn't noticed, because when Chloe looked up at him, her face was full of sick resignation. "Oh, god" -- and Chloe is a reporter, her observation skills are well above par when she decides to look at things, and it was only now that Clark realized that her eyes must have been purposely closed the past few months. "It's Lex, isn't it?" 

And Clark had lied to Chloe too many times, and she didn't deserve it, ever. "Yeah," he said, almost a whisper. 

He knelt beside her as she rested her head in her hands and cried. "Chloe. Don't cry. Please. I'm sorry--" 

"Jesus Christ, Clark," she said, between gulping breaths, "were you ever going to _tell_ me?" 

"No." 

Chloe shook her head violently and made a small choking noise. "And all this time I was worried about _Lana_. It didn't even _occur_ to me to worry about you being gay, for god's sake!" 

"Chloe, I'm sorry," he said softly. He wanted to touch her, to comfort her, and it was painful to know he couldn't. "I didn't mean to hurt you." 

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you started cheating on me." 

Clark winced at that, and he thought maybe Chloe caught it, because she turned to face him as she stood up and wiped at her face. 

"Just tell me why, Clark. You owe me that." 

And he did, but he wished that she wouldn't ask for things that were going to hurt her more. "I'm in love with him," he said, and it sounded like an apology. 

She stared at him bitterly, and said, "So, what am I? Some footnote in your epic romance?" 

And Clark didn't say a word as she left, because he couldn't think of a thing to say that would make it better, just a lot of things that would make it worse. 

He's been lying on the couch, staring at the beams for the last three hours, and he almost doesn't notice the familiar footsteps on the stairs. 

"Clark. What's the matter?" Lex stands a few feet away, face locked in concentration. This is the sort of look Lex wears when he's about to reach for his cell phone and make all sorts of people very sorry. 

Clark says bleakly, "Chloe broke up with me." 

Lex's expression changes, and he arranges himself neatly on top of Clark's legs. "All right. Do you need me to help you try to win her back?" 

"I don't think it'd do a whole lotta good." 

"That bad?" says Lex, raising an eyebrow. 

"She found out about us. About you and me." 

Lex frowns. He squeezes Clark's thigh, almost absently. "That makes it harder." 

"Fuck, Lex." That marks the second time in just a few hours that he's used that word. "I hurt her. I didn't want to, but I did." 

Lex continues to rub his leg slowly. "What would you go back and do differently?" he says. 

And there's nothing to say to that, so Clark doesn't bother trying, just pulls Lex down to sprawl against him. Lex even sprawls precisely. 

"You're not a bad person," Lex tells him, their foreheads pressed together, and Clark has never been sure how Lex knows exactly what he needs to hear. "She'll get over it. So will you." 

"It's not normal to have your illicit boyfriend comfort you on breaking up with your girlfriend," Clark says as he closes his eyes. And jeez, it always comes back to that, doesn't it? He's not normal. 

"That depends on what circles you frequent," Lex says, and Clark snorts. 

"I'm glad you're here," he says, opening his eyes again. Lex bites his lip and brushes a piece of hair off of Clark's forehead, and Clark says, "Why _are_ you here?" 

Lex just pokes him, and frowns at him. "Why the hell do you think, Clark?" 

Clark sighs, and says sadly, "Lex. I'm an idiot." 

"That's okay," says Lex, and Clark believes him. 


End file.
